by Lena Gregory
“Not really, Bee.” Though the tantalizing aroma drifting out of the still-closed pizza boxes made her wonder if maybe he was right.
He shrugged and tossed the folder aside. It slid off the table and onto the floor, and Bee bent to retrieve it. “Huh. Will ya look at that?”
“What?” Cass opened one of the boxes and the scent of peppers, onions, and sausage wafted out, making her mouth water. Okay. One slice of everything.
Bee stood and dropped what looked like a grainy black-and-white surveillance photo onto the table, then pointed to something in the middle. “What do you suppose is in that package Amelia and Levi appear to be exchanging?”
Chapter Nineteen
Cass and Stephanie both leaned over for a closer view.
The two people pictured were definitely Amelia and Levi. Amelia was looking over her shoulder directly toward the camera, and Levi was looking at her, but there was no mistaking his profile. The hooked nose was a dead giveaway. Between them, they held what looked to be a folded-over manila envelope.
Cass lifted the photo for a closer look, then handed it to Bee. “Can you tell which of them is handing the other the package?”
Bee held the photo closer to him and squinted. “I can’t tell.”
Stephanie looked over his shoulder. “Me neither.”
“Where did you find that, Bee?”
He handed the photo back to Cass and opened the folder that had held the transcribed journal pages. He pulled each of the pockets open, looked inside, then turned the folder upside down and shook it out. “It’s empty. The only thing I can figure is that the photo was in one of the pockets and fell out when I dropped it.”
“But why would Levi have given you the transcript with this in the pocket?” Cass rechecked the folder she’d already seen was empty. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless he didn’t know it was in there.” Bee flipped through the papers he’d left on the table, checking the backs of the pages as well as the fronts. “He said this was Fred’s copy, that Fred had asked Amelia to transcribe it because he didn’t want to bother reading the journal.”
“You think Fred stuck that in there, and neither Levi nor Amelia knew?” Stephanie asked.
Cass shook her head. “I have no idea what to think.”
“I wish I could tell what was in the envelope.” After once more studying the photo, Bee set it aside and sat. “Maybe it’s the journal? Or the pages?”
Despite closer examination, Cass couldn’t make out anything more. No writing on the envelope. No markings at all. “If it’s the size of a standard manila envelope, it’s folded, so it’s not the transcribed pages. It wouldn’t be big enough to hold the sheets of printer paper, and the stack is too thick to fold.”
Bee put slices of everything pizza on plates for each of them. “It could have been the journal, though. That was a pretty small leather-bound book.”
“Could be.” Cass turned the photo over to see if there was a date or time stamp on the back. Nothing. She set the photo aside and took a bite of her pizza. Grease dripped off the back edge of the slice, over her hand, and onto her plate. She grabbed a napkin and wiped her hand.
“Oh, man, this is really good.” Bee wiped his mouth. “Sal must have been working tonight. He always makes the crust nice and thin.”
Cass couldn’t argue. She took another bite. The pizza was extra good tonight, thin crust, lots of cheese and toppings, and the sauce just right. Either Sal had made it or stress eating made it taste so much better. She reminded herself if she wanted a second slice it had to be plain, then bit in again and savored the moment.
“Okay.” Stephanie gestured toward the photo with her slice still in hand. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that Levi didn’t know the photo was in there when he gave the folder to Bee. Let’s even say his sharing the journal was legitimate and he was just being nice because Bee had seemed interested and didn’t have any ulterior motive.”
“I would agree with that,” Bee said. “Since we both share an interest in gossip—and what is history, after all, but gossip from the past? He might have been intrigued enough to want to share the information, especially since he said he was afraid the journal display was going to be removed.”
“But why would they remove it after Fred’s death? He’s the one who apparently didn’t have an interest in being historically accurate. The Historical Society wanted it displayed.”
“So why would anyone remove it?” Cass finished off her slice, wiped her hands and mouth and took a drink of her soda. “Even if Simone was slated to buy the tour company, I’d imagine she’d want to include any related history she could find.”
Bee reached into the box for a second slice, offered it to Cass, then deposited it on his own plate when she shook her head. “What makes you say that?”
“It lends credibility to the ghost stories when the history surrounding them is accurate. Plus, when she was here, after she decided to include Mystical Musings on the tour, she asked if I knew the history of the building. Why worry about that if she had no interest in including history as part of the tour?”
“Hmm . . .” Bee took a bite, frowning as he chewed and then swallowed. “That makes a lot of sense. If she’d planned on including the history of Mystical Musings, she’d want to include everything she could about the lighthouse’s history too. And Kitty and Thomas’s story is quite intriguing. And leaves room for not one but two ghosts. Three if you count Samuel along with Thomas and Kitty.”
“She might even get away with bringing in some of the crew who died when the ship went down.” If it were Cass running the tour, she’d move that display front and center, so it would be seen as soon as you walked into the museum. Maybe even have some of the transcribed pages made into plaques and posted, so her guests could read some of the story’s highlights.
“Okay, hear me out before you disagree.” Stephanie tossed her napkin onto her empty plate. “Let’s say Levi did have an ulterior motive for giving Bee the transcripts. What could it have been? Keeping in mind, he also said he’s seen a ghost out on the jetty several times.”
Bee set his slice down with only one bite taken out of it. “You mean if he had something to do with Fred’s death?”
“Well, I’m not saying he did, but think about it. Someone was hanging around the jetty dressed as a pirate. Looking for treasure? Who knows? But still, what better way to spread the rumor that a ghost is haunting the lighthouse than to pique Bee’s interest? Maybe that would even convince people the ghost had something to do with Fred’s death, either by giving him a shove or maybe scaring him into falling.”
Bee stared down at his plate. “Do you really think he’d do something like that?”
Stephanie twirled her soda around in the condensation puddle on her coaster. “Not really, but that photo sure does look like a surveillance shot, and if it is, Fred had to have tucked it away in the folder for a reason. To confront the two about whatever was going on?”
Maybe. Cass shrugged. “Maybe the envelope was a payoff, and Amelia paid Levi to give the transcript to Bee so suspicion wouldn’t fall on her after Fred was killed.”
Bee waved the thought away. “I don’t think Amelia would have killed Fred. I don’t think she had the strength to do it, personally.”
“You could be right, but still.” Stephanie’s phone rang, and she dug through her purse, then silenced it and set it aside. “It’s something to think about. I still wonder why Piper wanted to meet with Quince at the lighthouse so badly. Do you think she could have stumbled onto whatever was going on between Amelia and Levi?”
“If”—Bee held up a finger—“anything was going on.”
Stephanie was right, though, it was something to think about. They had to consider Piper might have been silenced because she knew something and not just because she was mean.
“So, what about Quince and Francesca? You don’t think either of them had anything to do with Fred’s death?” Because, at that moment,
Luke and Tank were probably interrogating them both. “I wanted you to try to talk to Quince, Bee, but right now, he’s either hiding somewhere or in police custody, so we won’t be able to get near him anyway. We’re headed to the lighthouse, though, and Levi is the custodian out there, so maybe we ought to have a chat with him.”
“You mean ask him about the photo?” Bee picked it up and studied it again.
“Why not?” There was always the possibility Piper’s attack had nothing to do with Fred’s death, though that didn’t seem likely, given the fact she was found only yards from where he’d been killed. “Let’s say for a minute Levi, who might or might not be spreading rumors of a ghost on the jetty, Amelia, who found out Fred was cheating on her and is seen in that photo looking over her shoulder while one of them passes a package to the other, and Simone, whose husband disappeared under mysterious circumstances and is friends from way back with Amelia, all conspired to get rid of Fred.”
Bee squirmed. “When you say it like that, it seems like kind of a far-fetched conspiracy theory.”
“But if any of it was true, then what happened to Piper? Why was she so frantic to get Quince out to the lighthouse? And why would someone other than Quince have tried to kill her?”
Bee shrugged. “Maybe she found out something?”
“Could be.” But it didn’t sit right in Cass’s gut. “But what reason would Quince have had to kill Fred?”
“Supposedly, Piper was cheating on him with Fred all last season, and rumor has it Fred was sniffing around Francesca, who Quince really seems to have feelings for, this year. He’d already warned Fred off once. And then there’s the treasure. Don’t forget the ‘ghost’ Levi saw out there, and the costume we found would certainly fit Quince.” Bee picked up his slice again.
Cass sighed regretfully as she closed the everything box and helped herself to a plain slice. One slice, even loaded, was not going to be enough to help her digest everything that had happened today. Cass sprinkled a packet of grated parmesan over her pitifully bare slice.
After finishing off his slice, Bee said, “So, Levi could have killed Fred, maybe so he’d be free to search for and claim the treasure. Amelia could have killed him because he was cheating on her. I didn’t see Simone at the lighthouse, but she was obviously in town at the time, so she could have helped him out the window either out of revenge for Amelia or because he found out she was buying the business, and he was going to try to block the sale . . .”
That was something Cass hadn’t considered. And she’d better, since her first phone call of the morning was going to be to Simone to ask her for help controlling the voices.
“And it’s also true Quincy could have killed him, because Fred was going after his girlfriend. But has anyone considered Piper could have pushed him?”
“What?” Caught off guard, Cass’s first instinct was to defend the young girl, but was it because she didn’t think she’d done it or because she’d been hurt? She couldn’t be sure.
Bee shrugged. “Not to speak ill, because no one deserves what happened to her, but Piper was mean. And when she confronted Quince in the diner, she obviously had a problem with his relationship with Francesca, so who’s to say she didn’t find out Fred was interested in her, get jealous, and give him a shove?”
As much as Cass didn’t want to believe that, it was more plausible in her mind than Quince having done it. “The biggest problem with some of your theories is that the fall isn’t what killed Fred. It was blunt force trauma to the head. Which means someone hit him over the head with something and then pushed him out the window.”
Stephanie started to clear the table. “Maybe the ghost of Samuel Garrison or Thomas the pirate actually did kill him.”
Bee harrumphed, then ignored her and turned to Cass. “So, now what?”
“First, I want to try to do Stephanie’s reading.” Though Cass would have preferred to wait until after she’d spoken to Simone about a shield, it was too late to call tonight, and she wasn’t lying awake all night tossing and turning over Stephanie or Tank possibly being in danger. Chief Rawlins’s accusations rang loudly in her mind, drowning out everything else. She would not fail anyone else, especially not two of her closest friends. “Then I go to the keeper’s house and see if I can get Fred to tell me who killed him.”
Chapter Twenty
Cass leaned over Beast, ruffled his mane, and whispered, “You make sure you fetch and return for Bee, okay? No making me look bad.”
Bee snickered and grabbed a tennis ball from the drawer. “Of course, he’ll return the ball for me. He always does.”
Cass just grunted. She couldn’t deny Beast listened better to Bee than he did to her. Still, he sometimes got over on him. If not for the fact she’d just had Beast groomed, and didn’t feel like having to clean him up again, she’d wish for him to take a nice dip in the bay. Then shake water all over Bee. Or better yet, if Bee had to go wading into the bay after him.
She smiled. “Have fun, you two.”
Bee eyed her warily for a second. “Are you up to something?”
“Who? Me?” She fluttered her lashes. “Never.”
“Mm-hmm.” He headed for the door, having decided to take Beast out and work off some of the three loaded slices he’d eaten before settling down to read. “Come on, boy, let your mama and Stephanie have some privacy.”
“Are you ready, Stephanie?”
“As I’ll ever be.” She settled herself at the table across from where Cass would sit.
Cass considered the basket of paper and pencils. A blank white sheet, ready for her to fill with what might come in Stephanie’s future. No. Not right tonight. She needed something straightforward, needed to be able to focus. A life might depend on it. Cass took the crystal ball and set it on the table, then took her seat. “You know I usually try to let my customers know what I’m seeing and how I interpret it as I’m doing the reading, but I really have to work at trying to keep the extra voices out, so could you bear with me if I’m quiet?”
“Of course, Cass.” Stephanie straightened in her seat. “I trust you completely. I’ll just sit here quietly and let you figure things out, and you can let me know anything I need to know afterward.”
Cass nodded. She’d known Stephanie would do whatever she’d asked, and she’d do everything in her power this time to make sure that trust was well deserved.
She tilted her head from side to side, then rolled her shoulders, settling her nerves. Anxiety during a reading was new to Cass, and she didn’t want it to interfere. But what had caused the anxiety? The thought of failing Stephanie? Or was it part of a message that Tank or Stephanie were in danger?
Cass rubbed her neck and tried to concentrate on the ball. She looked past the surface, deeper into the distortion that might give her answers, and she opened herself up.
The voices attacked instantly, battering her, begging for her attention. She tried to ignore them, imagined walking into a crowded room with everyone vying to say hello. Projecting an image of Stephanie across the room, Cass focused on her. She walked toward her, couldn’t hear anything over the chorus of voices.
An idea struck her. Maybe she didn’t have to hear over the voices. Ignoring the chaos, she closed her eyes and shook her head, then opened them again and searched deeper within the ball. She stared straight down, deeper. An image shimmered in the deepest recesses of the crystal. Black? No. Red. Deep red. Blood?
The image swirled and turned, fading in and out. Cass tried to grab hold, tried to steady it.
Dizziness assailed her, followed by a wave of nausea.
She sat back for a moment, opened her eyes to get her bearings and took a sip of her soda to quell the nausea.
Stephanie stared at her and frowned but remained quiet.
Cass massaged her neck for a moment, rubbed her eyes, then tried again. Whatever that image was, Cass had a strong feeling she needed to know. Could it be what would save Stephanie or Tank? Maybe.
It could also b
e what would hurt them.
Cass blew out a breath and tried to rid herself of enough apprehension to try again.
This time the image came right away. Red. Dark red. Patches of something else. Another color. Not white, too muddied. Gray. Dark red, patches of gray.
Fear tore through her.
“Four. Take him. Four. Help. Four. Needs. fourfourfour. Now.”
The image clarified for only a fraction of a second, just barely long enough for her to recognize the shape for what it was. A vehicle of some sort. Red. Patches of gray. Tires.
And it was gone.
Pain throbbed at her temples.
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
Blood spattered the table from her nose.
Stephanie jumped up and grabbed the roll of paper towels from the counter. She shoved a wad at Cass, placed a hand on her shoulder, and pushed the crystal ball away. “Enough, Cass.”
“But I—”
“No.” She removed the ball and placed it on the counter out of reach. “That’s it.”
“But you don’t—”
“I said that’s enough, Cass. I’m not going to have you hurting yourself to try to do a reading for me.” She lifted the hair off Cass’s neck and tied it into a knot at the back of her head. “Who knows? Maybe Bee’s right and, for whatever reason, things are supposed to play out the way they play out without us knowing what’s coming.”
It might be time to accept that. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try again after she’d spoken to Simone about helping her create a shield. “I was able to see one thing. I don’t know what it means or if it will help, but you need to call Tank and somehow convince him whatever message is trying to reach me has something to do with a red vehicle of some sort with bald tires and patches of gray, maybe primer. And the number four.”
“I will, Cass. I promise.” She took the bloody paper towels from Cass and handed her a few fresh ones, then grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and put it on the back of Cass’s neck. “Here. Keep pinching your nose.”